


To Live By It

by shelny18



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 18:38:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shelny18/pseuds/shelny18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this <a href="http://crazygurl4994.tumblr.com/post/61184025570/daylighthound-joinmyrevolution-grantaire">post</a> on tumblr.</p><p>Instead of Eponine saving Marius on the barricade, it is Grantaire who saves Enjolras.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Live By It

**Author's Note:**

> I had a vague idea of this anyway, only swapping the roles of Enjolras/Grantaire and Marius/Eponine even more so Grantaire had to watch as Enjolras fell for somebody else, but when I saw this post I simply had to write this.
> 
> Title comes from The Brick - “You who suffer because you love, love still more. To die of love, is to live by it.”

Enjolras's lips had tightened unconsciously when he caught sight of Grantaire leaning against the barricade, laughing and joking with Jehan and Bahorel, but all Combeferre had the energy to do was sigh.

"Do _not_ start anything," he warned softly. "Grantaire has been coming to our meetings for well over a year, he is as much a part of this group as anyone."

"He comes to our meetings to drink and shout stupid comments," Enjolras snapped back. "I mean, you heard him the other day, bloody fool. He said not one useful thing, just got blackout drunk after encouraging Marius with that silly infatuation of his, an infatuation which is distracting him even now when we fight to save the people, a fight I thought he was a hundred percent invested in."

"I think you got your views on love through to Marius quite clearly the other night," Combeferre murmured, eyes automatically flickering to Eponine as he spoke. "Love is not just a distraction however. And besides, if you truly hated Grantaire as much as you say you do, you would have thrown him out long before. But you haven't, and I would suggest you take a moment to think about what that means before you judge him or anyone else too much."

And with that he turned and climbed down, heading into the cafe to join Joly.

"He's back!"

The upcoming drama with Javert managed to push Grantaire and Combeferre's words to the back of Enjolras's mind until the inspector tried to escape, shoving Grantaire roughly to one side and into the wall. Instantly Enjolras leapt forwards, though he told himself it was only because they couldn't risk Javert escaping. His eyes flickered over the cynic once the spy was down and out, searching to make sure he was okay even though he still said nothing and turned away quickly towards the sound of marching feet now drifting into the cafe.

"Shit," he heard Grantaire mumble but he refused to look back at him.

"To the barricade," he ordered, already running back out the door and climbing up to look. Feuilly and Combeferre were hot on his heels, the rest following quickly, though Grantaire dawdled behind as always. Grabbing his gun Enjolras slotted himself into position at the top of the barricade, aiming carefully.

* * *

Grantaire was in no hurry to die so hung back when his friends started to climb the barricade, aiming their guns at the soldiers and waiting for the attack to start. From where he was stood near the cafe Grantaire couldn't hear what the officer leading the soldiers called over, though Enjolras's reply of "French revolution!" was clear enough. So too was the next cry, one which sent a chill running through his veins.

"Fire!"

A quick swig of his bottle was all he had time for before he was surrounded by the noise of the battle. There was no desire in him to fight, no urge to pick up a gun and fight with his friends, only a desperation for them to win and survive. This desperation increased when they started climbing the barricade, and through a gap he saw what Enjolras, distracted as he was by the fighting, could not.

A gun, pointing straight towards the blonde.

"No!" he cried, bottle slipping from his grasp and shattering on the cobbles as he threw himself towards the barricade, scrambling up it madly. "Enjolras!" Grantaire knew he wouldn't have much time so practically jumped the last little bit, pushing his leader to one side at the same time as grabbing the end of the rifle, pulling it away from the blonde just as it fired.

Not caring about what Enjolras's reaction to him pushing him might be, Grantaire let himself slip down from the barricade and lean in a corner out of the way, content that he had saved the man he loved.

* * *

Enjolras hadn't even noticed it was Grantaire had knocked him out of the way, his eyes instead drawn straight to where Marius was threatening to blow up the barricade. As the soldiers drew back he reached over quickly, grabbing the torch and pulling it away from both Marius and the gunpowder before he killed them all. He said nothing for the time being as Combeferre had almost instantly started shouting, surprising them all with the force of his anger. It was the first time most of them had ever seen Combeferre losing his temper and it was a sight they would never forget.

Enjolras's attention however had switched first to checking his friends for injuries then snapped to Grantaire, noticing, with what would have been relief with any other, that he wasn't dead. There was however anger mixed in that the drunkard hadn't even bothered to pick up a gun, nevermind join in with the fighting, but Enjolras pushed that to one side when he noticed how pale the artist looked. The smashed bottle by his feet confirmed the blonde's suspicians, as did the way Grantaire swayed and almost collapsed moments later, only just managing to catch himself on the box behind. Enjolras was by his side in seconds as the artist lowered himself down to the ground slowly, wincing as he did so.

"What the fuck have you done?" Enjolras demanded, hand reaching over to brush back the curls which were threatening to fall into Grantaire's face. "It was you, wasn't it," he continued, not giving the other man a chance to reply and clearly not asking a question. "You're the one who saved me."

"Everyone else was too busy fighting to realise. I couldn't let you die, O fearless leader."

"I am willing to sacrifice my life for the cause," Enjolras said fiercely. "You should not have risked yourself for me."

"Sorry," he mumbled quietly.

Enjolras sighed. "It's okay."

It was only then that he noticed Grantaire's hand press to his chest as he breathed deeply then move away again, coloured a red Enjolras would never forget.

"Shit," he breathed, dropping to his knees and pulling Grantaire into his arms. "Shit shit shit shit _shit_. You're a fucking idiot 'Taire. How bad is it?" Once again he didn't give Grantaire chance to reply but instead answered himself, touching his own hand to where he could see Grantaire's old shirt staining so dark it was almost black. When that came away the same colour he pulled Grantaire closer still, realising for the first time what this all meant.

"Bad enough," the brunette croaked, smiing weakly up at his friend. "Forget that for a moment will you? Just hold me. Please."

"Anything," Enjolras whispered, his hold tightening slightly. "And it is I who should be sorry my friend, sorry for all the hateful things I have spoken throughout the years. I should have known that in the end you would be willing to die for our fight."

"Not the cause. Never the cause. You." Grantaire paused and reached up with his hand, clasping it to the side of Enjolras's lower face and neck. "It has always been you. I die for you. I believe in only you. Hell, I love you. I have only ever loved you."

The blonde's clean hand tangled in Grantaire's hair at that, the other resting against his cheek lightly, not caring about the blood it transferred onto the artist's face.

"I guess, somehow, I've always known that," he breathed softly, leaning down and resting his forehead against Grantaire's. "I'm just sorry it took me until now to admit that I love you too."

By now the rest of Les Amis had realised what was happening and had gathered round, though none came too close. Courfeyrac and Jehan had their arms round each other in comfort and all Feuilly could do was keep one hand pressed against his best friend's shoulder, stopping Bahorel from interrupting the moment taking place in front of them, though he was worried as to what Bahorel might do when Grantaire died.

"You were good for me," Enjolras admitted, not even realising they had an audience he was so focused on Grantaire. "You stopped me from taking myself too seriously and helped improve my arguments. You annoyed me, yes, but you always brightened my day just that little bit. Now just fucking well live." His voice cracked. "I'm begging you here 'Taire because I have known you for seven years and I no longer know how to live without you."

"At least now my life has been worth something. Now do me a favour." Grantaire's smile was a mockery of his normal one there was so little life there but it was still present at least. "Live. Win this revolution or at the very least live to start another. I don't want you to join me until you're an old, old man, with silver hair and laughter lines, here and here." His fingers moved to trace the corners of Enjolras's eye and mouth. "I know you won't listen, but it is worth a try."

"You don't even believe in an afterlife," Enjolras pointed out quietly.

"I do if it means I can see you again."

Grantaire's voice had been growing weaker and weaker as he spoke until eventually only Enjolras could hear that last sentence, and then just barely. As he finished the coughing started, bringing up enough blood to truly scare Enjolras. Ignoring the streak of red now coming from the corner of his mouth Enjolras kissed Grantaire desperately, tears leaving tracks down his own face as he did so. Grantaire's hand moved back up to grip Enjolras's face as he kissed back, then suddenly the hand was gone, the mouth no longer moving, the faint breath no longer warming his lips.

"No," Enjolras practically whimpered, holding Grantaire to him as close as he could, caring not when the blood passed onto his own shirt, turning it as red as his jacket. "No. You can't be dead. You just can't. You can't die now. Not now. Not when I need you."

"Enjolras. Enjolras, he's gone. It's too late." Combeferre's words finally sunk in after a few moments of speaking, the familiar weight of his friend's hand on his shoulder finally bringing Enjolras back to his senses. Joly and Bahorel slowly pulled Grantaire out of the blonde's grasp and lifted him between them, carrying him into the cafe to lay him out. The second he was gone Enjolras was flinging his arms around Combeferre and sobbing once, twice, three times into his shoulder. It scared them all to see their leader in such a state but for once no-one said anything.

"I think I loved him," Enjolras whispered, his words muffled.

"I know," Combeferre sighed. "I know. I've known for a while now. But we need you. We can't win this without you."

Blinking away what tears were still threatening to fall Enjolras pulled back and stood, wiping away the tear tracks as calmly as he could.

"He was the first," he said, voice loud and clear. No-one could look away from him as he spoke. At that moment he was an avenging angel come down from the heavens, and all each and every one of them could think was that Grantaire would have described him as Apollo even more than ever if he could see him then. Enjolras stood proud as ever but now there was grief and fury written into the lines on his face, backed up by the only colour present there - a bloody handprint which no-one was even sure if the blonde had noticed. "The first of us to fall. Grantaire will never be forgotten, not for as long as any of us shall live. We fight here in his name. Now excuse me."

And with that he turned and walked into the Musain, ready to grieve properly and privately the cynical man he had only just classed as a friend, the man he now knew he loved.


End file.
